Treason and Love's Reason
by quoth-the-pigeon
Summary: Russia and America are lovers during the Cold War. In front of the other nations though, they act as though they are still bitter enemies. However, one day one of them finds they can no longer keep up the act. Russia/America
1. Chapter 1

Hey everyone! Hope you're all doing well dear readers. Here's a short little story(No, seriously. Each update is like 2 pages long) currently in progress on the kinkmeme. Each time I post on there I keep thinking, "I will get OP to respond", but it has still never happened. Haha, oh well. I still love writing them :) I hope you enjoy it!

_Chris

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**Treason and Love's Reason**

_-One-_

"Don't forget your sock, you left it in the sink." America looked out from under the cocoon of the sheets, blearily watching Russia move around the room while collecting his things and fixing his tie. The hotel room was grey, only touched by the weakest tendrils of morning light. The black alarm clock ticked seconds away from 4:45 and America pulled the teal hotel comforter up higher on his bare back.

Russia hummed and walked to the small kitchenette where a black dress sock hung limply from the silver tap. He grabbed it and walked back to the rumpled bed, sitting down next to where America lay quietly with his head at the foot of the bed and his own feet resting on the starched pillows. Neither said anything as Russia rolled the sock up and pulled it onto his right foot. America moved his leg to touch the cigarette tray on the nightstand, listening to the weighted glass scratch the top loudly.

"I hate this," he muttered into the mattress, frowning at the green and blue carpeted floor. Russia paused in buttoning up his dress shirt and looked down at the young blond. Cool pale fingers curled around the ends of America's hair before trailing down his neck and spine. America shivered, bright blue eyes looking up at him with his face still mashed against the bedding.

"_Da_," Russia said, "I know." His fingers trailed along the golden expanse of skin, circling gently around soft red marks made from his fingers from sex only hours ago.

America snorted and burrowed his face in the mattress again, mumbling something inaudible. Deftly buttoning his shirt, Russia smoothed out the wrinkles and looked back down to the younger man. "What?"

"I said I feel like a hooker when you gotta go so early." He stopped pushing the ashtray around with his toes and rolled over, long legs catching and coiling the sheets and exposing his naked chest.

"Well you sure moan like one," Russia said with a small grin, leaning to the side as America batted his arm in mock anger. He sobered quickly though and glanced at the door. "We cannot risk being seen. The reaction would be…unsavory."

America huffed and drummed his fingers against his ribs, staring up at the shadowed ceiling with a frown. "Not unless your face was all bloodied up or something." With those words he paled and looked back at Russia before pushing off the bed and rolling off with a loud thump. The older man watched him rummage through the room naked while looking for a pack to smoke.

"Briefcase," he said and stood up from the bed to locate his shoes.

"Thanks"

Russia watched America finally pull out a half empty pack of Marlboros and pounce back onto the empty bed. He sat cross-legged and lit the cigarette up before tossing the red plastic lighter with a clatter next to the clock. It was only when America tilted his head and exhaled that he realized he had been openly staring for the past minute. The smoke danced to the ceiling, gleaming in the slowly strengthening light and the clock clicked loudly as its hands snapped into 5.

"I need to go," he said while stooping down for a nicotine-drenched kiss. America's tongue flicked out wetly in an attempt to stretch out what had been meant to be a quick peck. Russia pulled away, kissing America's brow as he frowned. "You know how early England and Germany wake. I have to get to my room."

America nodded petulantly, blue eyes watching in interest as he finished getting ready and grabbed his room key. "I'll see you later then, fucking commie." America's voice was flat with the insult meant to have no bite.

"Until later, capitalist pig," Russia replied with a smile, his gloved hand resting reluctantly on the door handle.

"Hey," America called out just as Russia pulled on the handle. The other nation looked back to see him roll on to his stomach, displaying his ass blatantly and giving it a firm smack. Red bloomed quickly over the soft creamy skin before Russia tugged his eyes to meet America's blue gaze. America gave a brazen smile despite the blush that had bloomed across his own face and down his chest. "Just remember you're fucking that tonight, alright?" Russia chuckled and pulled the door open before slinking out of the room and shutting the door silently behind him.

The hall was eerily quiet and the lighting was dimmed as the guests of the hotel still slept. Russia walked towards his room on the opposite side of the floor while gazing down at the watch on his wrist. 5:20. America always managed to make him late. He hummed quietly in thought as he took a right. Not that he was any better. He liked to hold America a lot longer and the younger man was usually left to dashing through the hotel halls just as everyone woke up.

It was getting harder to separate in the morning. Originally it had been an unwritten rule. Spend the night– leave at 4:30. But just as their phone calls had lengthened, so had their brief and secretive visits. Russia glanced back at his watch, looking up as he heard the click of a door closing. Vitriolic green eyes stared back and Russia had the familiar curve of his saccharine smile up before he knew it was there.

"Good morning," Russia greeted.

England hesitated before saying, "Good morning. Early start today?"

"I was going to get the paper before breakfast."

England looked behind him, as though expecting to see something lurking there and shifted his weight. His suit jacket lay folded in the crook of his arm "Well then. I suppose I will see you at the meeting then."

England was watching him carefully with green eyes full of distrust and Russia widened his unnerving smile. "I look forward to it, _comrade_." He took off before England could snap anything back and hurried back to his room when he felt far enough away from England's gaze.

Once in his room, Russia sighed and looked towards the single undisturbed bed and placed his key down on the small desk by the door. The morning light was still diluted, but had begun to show the slow glow of gold that banished the watery grey shadows that filled the empty room. Russia pulled the bottle of vodka from the fridge and stalked over to the balcony window. Tugging it open, frigid December air blasted his face with needle sharp cold. He took a draught of the alcohol with a frown and watched as the bleak blue sky started to crumble into the sunny yellow of day.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey everyone! Hope you are all doing well! College is revving up for finals and I can feel my sanity being ripped away. So I apologize if there are any appalling errors in here. Enjoy :)**  
**

_Chris

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**Treason and Love's Reason**

_-Two-_

The play always began at breakfast with saccharine smiles and twisting sardonic words. America sat in the hotel lobby next to a potted fern, reading the headlines of the newspaper as the three other nations at the table chatted amiably and his coffee grew cold. There wasn't much left to the bitter brown liquid save the cream that had fallen to the bottom and the grinds that pockmarked the edges of the while porcelain. He always felt like an actor. It was amazing really, how quickly insults sprouted when looking at Russia in the presence of the other nations of the world. It was artistic, in some grotesque way, how vicious and acerbic they could be to each other and then spend the night talking about the stars and smoothing the fears out of each other's limbs with gentle fingers.

England huffed and the younger nation turned his gaze to his brothers. France was rolling his eyes and Canada was staring out of a window nearby, lilac eyes trailing the snow that swirled to the ground slowly. "I'm telling you he was skulking about the hotel at an ungodly hour. Devil knows what he was doing." England took a sip from his tea and America folded the paper haphazardly. It wasn't like there was any salient information in there that he didn't know.

"What?" America asked.

"England ran into dear Russia this morning," France sighed, stirring his spoon in his coffee three times. He took a sip and tilted his head, watching America and Canada from under his cup.

"Fucker probably trying to terrorize the hotel staff for kicks," America huffed. The pad of his thumb trailed over the edge of the cup slowly before he took one last gulp and swallowed the cold remains of the coffee with a grimace. _I shouldn't have kept him so late._ He fixed his glasses and glanced to his twin who was pushing his fork around the tablecloth with a bored expression.

"Most likely. He does seem to enjoy that sort of thing." England was looking down at the binder of notes in his lap, no longer watching the other men at the table.

France just shook his head and turned his gaze to the window. "Another year will be coming soon. I cannot wait for the holidays to strike up once more." There was a faint look of fondness that danced in his eyes and a smile curled around his lips. "Planning on getting arrested again this Christmas _Angleterre_?"

"Fuck you," England muttered tartly, his eyebrows drawing together. A moment of silence passed as France, Canada, and America waited for another swear or blustered curse to come but were met with only terse silence.

"Ah, has our dear England finally calmed down to that of civilized conversation? I would never have guessed I would live to see the day."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't listening to your croaking, toad. Were you _trying_ to speak _properly_?" England finally snapped back. When France began to coolly mention just how much of his 'croaking' was in his lexicon, England looked like a puffed up bird and began to angrily snap at him.

America watched them in amusement, taking a chunk of the croissant on his plate and ripping it in half to gnaw on the buttery white flesh. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Russia walking towards the dinning area and turned to watch him. His fingers tightened on the edge of his chair as he watched him hover in the shadows of the hall, assessing the seating arrangement with what looked like a sneer of disdain, but America could see the sadness painted in his brow and the corner of his lips. The other nation noticed America's bright blue gaze and a small twitch of a smile appeared before it was squashed by a venomous glare. He gave a nod and America responded with a courteous dip of his own.

_And so act 1 begins_.

America tensed and Canada looked to him, noticing the change in posture and followed his brother's gaze towards the large nation. Canada pulled his gaze back to America and frowned. "Behave," he said as a warning, his voice quiet and almost inaudible against France and England's petty squabbling.

"Yeah, 'cause I'm really gonna just go and start a war because I don't like his ugly mug at breakfast." America looked back to where Russia was sitting and crossed his arms. "Fucking face could probably curdle milk." He mashed the crumbs from the pastry between his fingers and shook his head. He hated double talk, even if he was really good at it. Usually all it took was remembering something that the Soviet Union was doing at the moment and he could have a convincible façade. Actually, that whole damn missile thing was enough to set his teeth on edge. When he stood up, the two Europeans stopped arguing. "I'm just going to do a sweep of the conference room, calm your shit." He gave a glance over his shoulder as he picked up his briefcase and pushed the chair in with his foot. "I'll see you in a few, alright?"

The chatter of the room seemed to get quieter as he walked towards Russia, but it was the only way to get to the conference room. The room smelled like pine and juniper from the greenery brought in to celebrate the quickly approaching Christmas. There wouldn't be another meeting until February as they generally took the month of January off. Maybe he could see Russia during that time. It wasn't that hard to fake a passport, and while his Russian wasn't all that good, his Polish was passable. He could pretend to be a Polish tourist or businessman or something. America adjusted his glasses, deep in thought about how he could slide through security with a good set of documents.

"Leaving so soon, America?" Russia asked as he started to pass his table. America glanced over to him, slowing his stride as he quirked a brow. "Shame. I was about to poison your coffee, too."

America barked in a single note of laughter. _Good morning to you too, sweetie_. "I see they let you out of the zoo again. Bananas are over there by the way." His grin was razor sharp as he stopped and Russia simply continued to look on pleasantly.

"How intelligent. You must have been thinking about that line for the past month. Or perhaps you had someone come up with it for you? That does seem more like you." Russia hummed and looked around the room. "Ah. Your nanny seems to have come. Such a shame." He looked bored and leaned back in the chair.

America turned to see who was coming behind him and glared back at the other man. "England's _not_ my nanny."

"Wet nurse. My mistake."

"Fuck you, Russia."

"Really, you disappoint me. Your insults were getting a just a little better."

With a jerk to keep England's hand from falling onto his shoulder, America gritted his teeth and stormed away from the other man. Before he turned the corner to head towards the conference room he could see Russia looking after him, a small sad smile ghosting across his features before it was locked away and America turned back to walk down the hall ignoring the miniscule stab of guilt that stabbed and twisted within his heart.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello all! Hope you're doing well. Nothing much to say because it's back to studying for me.

_Chris

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Treason and Love's Reason

-Three-

It was still early for the meeting, but Russia made his way into the conference room after finishing a cup of coffee with two creams and one sugar. Russia didn't really like coffee that way, but that's how America takes his coffee and the smell reminded him of the other nation. Sometimes he can pretend that he can see the younger man's reflection in the brown liquid. As he opened the door to the room, America was facing away from him, but he could see the agitation in his shoulders as he lifted a painting off the wall and checked for any bugs. England turned to glare at him, his already cross features turning mildly murderous when they turned to see him. Russia simply smiled and took his seat silently.

"Of all the rooms, in all the hotels, in all the world, you had to walk into mine," America grouched over his shoulder as he placed the painting back into its spot.

"I would not call this room 'yours'. Perhaps your greedy materialistic side is showing a bit too much?"

America turned to him fully as he stood in front of the window and frowned. The shadows made his face seem paler than normal and outlined the frown cutting his face. Russia waited for him to quip something back, but when all the younger man did was sigh and turn to checking the curtains, Russia sat up a little straighter and watched him carefully. He looked more tired than usual and his movements seemed to be just a little slower. Russia glanced to England. The island nation seemed more agitated than usual and was glowering at the conference table from where he sat.

America continued to sweep through the room, checking and double-checking the security, as he was wont to do with his newfound sense of paranoia. A butterfly of guilt sailed through his stomach and he looked down to his hands. That paranoia had only come from their war games with each other. False threats here, rumors there…there was too much information for the young man to go through, and too many potentials that he couldn't ignore. As a result, America had become suspicious of everything. It was an insecurity born from Russia. He sighed, fiddling with the edges of his scarf between his fingers. Such was the price to pay.

"What are you so depressed over?"

Russia looked up to the seat across from him, meeting green distrustful eyes. Russia could hear America stilling to his right and Russia leaned back in the chair with a shrug. "The state of the world. Though we did miss you at the Olympics last year." With that Russia turned almost gleefully to England and said, "But we were delighted to receive your athletes. Is that how you normally boycott things? Say you wont go and then show up anyway? It does make hotel reservations incredibly hard to get straight."

England looked livid but before he could growl out a single word, America said, "Stop taunting him. England, can you get my notes? I left them with Canada, I think." England's gaze swung to America and the young nation raised his hands in defense. "I just got done sweeping this room. No way I'm leaving him here alone."

That seemed to settle England's temper and he rose stoically, crossing the room in short strides before shutting the door behind him with a loud bang. Russia watched the door for a few seconds before turning to America. He was furrowing his hand through his bright blonde hair, looking out of the window before turning his blue eyes onto his boyfriend. "Do you always have to taunt him?" America muttered quietly, sliding over to Russia and falling into the seat next to him. He dropped his head onto Russia's shoulder while letting out a long sigh.

"It's fun." Russia said and dragged cool fingers through the blond locks. America hummed. Violet eyes looked up to the ceiling of the room and back to the empty table. It smelled like stark cleaning products here, unlike the homey pine that filled the rest of hotel.

"You know were gonna have to be extra mean to each other today. Might even have to pull a gun out." America burrowed his head closer to Russia's neck, breathing against the scarf that looped around the older man's neck. "People are talking."

"They do little else. Like geese." Russia made a loud honking sound and America jerked at the unexpected noise, sitting up and staring at him with wide blue eyes before laughing and kissing him on the lips gaily.

"You're crazy," America laughed.

Russia said nothing and butted his forehead against America's. "As are you. "

"Damn communist."

"Naive wonder boy."

America chuckled and pulled away. Russia watched him stare at the door for a long time with a disgruntled look. He finally slid onto the conference table, looking down with a lazy gaze and Russia kneaded his fingers along his calf. "You look tired today. How are you?"

America looked down at him, fingers sweeping over the top of Russia's head, skimming over the pale hair before giving a cheery smile. "Fine. Totally good."

"You look pale." _Are you alright_, went the silent question.

America curled his own fingers and rubbed Russia's shoulders and arms gently. "I'm good. Promise." When Russia stared at him, frowning, America added with a sigh, "Just a nightmare. No need to worry."

"What was it about?"

"Nothing. Jeeze. Stop being all worried. You're like a freaking mother hen. It's not like a dream could kill me or anything." When Russia sighed, America's smile bubbled back up knowing that the older man had dropped the conversation. "I was thinking maybe I'd come see you this January."

"The whole month?" Russia questioned, looking up in confusion.

"Well, yeah. If you're okay with it."

"Of course I am." Russia paused, gliding his fingers over America's knees and down his shin. He worked his jaw for a minute before asking, "But how would you ever be able to?"

It wasn't exactly easy for Nations to just to pop over for more than a week. Especially when Russia and America were thought to be enemies at the moment. It would look like an act of espionage and Russia was dreading the chaos that would inevitably come.

"Babe, you forget just how good I am at forging." He had a suave grin on and his voice had lowered into a coy whisper as he dragged one finger across Russia's jaw. Russia had to shove down the urge to simply push him onto the table and kiss him senseless. He bit his lip as America continued on. "Spend some time in the National Parks, Reagan loves that. Head over to New York. Fly to Poland. Come over as a Polish businessman. Bam. One fucking month together."

"And if you are not good at forging?"

"Then I'll be in prison for a week or so. Whatever." He wrinkled his nose and added, "Or you could 'detain' me." He stopped, looking to the door before cursing and rolling out of Russia's grasp to scramble across the table to the other side of the room. He looked like a drunken penguin and Russia had to raise his scarf over his mouth to stop from smiling so obviously. America was wiping away the dust from his suit jacket as Canada and Finland came in, both looking curious to the fact that Russia and America were in a room alone together.

Russia adjusted his scarf and set beck to looking through his own notes, which were slightly scattered from when America had rolled over them. He thought over America's words as the young nation happily talked with his brother. It would be nice to have America over for a while. No sneaking around, just relaxing without the fear of being caught. He smiled at that and looked up to the where the window allowed soft white light to seep in. The smile slipped off quickly as the rest of America's words quickly began to haunt his thoughts and he felt cold. Extra mean, fine. He could serve America an extra dose of caustic comments joyously. But to pull out a gun with the intention of shooting?

Russia shook his head and looked sourly at the paper in his hands. The gun in his pocket suddenly felt too heavy and its weight consumed his thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Ahhhh! Everything's been moved around while I was gone! Oh dear. Sorry for the wait dear readers! I've got a full time job now, so between working all day and spending quality time with my family and friends I've been finding less time to write. Oh, and I found tumblr. That sucks up time too. Hope you are all doing well! (and that your stories didn't get deleted)

_Chris

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**Treason and Love's Reason**

_–Four–_

America sat at the conference table, idly scratching down notes before the room plunged into darkness as France turned off the lights and began to narrate the slides of his presentation. America placed the pen down, unable to see what he was writing anymore in the low light and turned to look at the presentation. The slides changed with a click, and America glanced at the screen in the front of the room before turning to watch the rest of the nations instead. There wasn't much information to listen to as it was mostly about western trade with the Eastern bloc, and he had already met with France a month ago on the same exact subject. Instead America watched the room with a sweeping gaze, noting how all eyes were on the presentation, before fixing his gaze on Russia.

He had yet to notice Alfred's gaze, violet eyes fixed towards the front of the room like everyone else. The beam of projector light made his cheekbone and nose shine while casting the right side of his face into deep purple shadow. Someone shifted in their chair, the creaking of leather bringing America's eyes back to the front of the room. The click of the changing of slides resounded from behind him and the room plunged into a deep cool blue with the projector light. The light this time was less contrasting against Russia's face and illuminated the violet eyes that were staring directly back.

America gave a small smile, one that fluttered on his lips for only a heartbeat before setting into a practiced grimace. Russia turned his head back to the front and the long pause in his note taking was the only sign he had seen America's furtive smile. The scratches of pens and pencils on paper from the surrounding nations became an almost soothing noise and America leaned back into his chair. Fingers curled against the wooden table, he tapped quietly with the pad of his thumb the drumbeat to a song he had heard yesterday on the radio.

A low gurgle rumbled from his stomach and America glanced down. It was probably lunchtime, and a quick flick of his wrist to check his watch said it was half past twelve. His stomach growled again, loud enough this time for Canada to give him an amused look before turning back to the front. America blushed. _Shut up, stomach, _he thought to himself while covering his belly with his hand. Movement caught the corner of his eye and he glanced up, noticing Russia was turned towards him.

His smile was quick, a flash of teeth that gleamed in the projector light. _Hungry?_ Russia mouthed.

America dipped his head as a response, scratching the back of his head to disguise the movement from any prying eyes. _Lunch?_ America mouthed back.

Russia agreed and turned back to paying attention to what France was saying. America let his gaze linger for a few seconds more. Someone from further down the table coughed and America tilted his head to see who when he met Lithuania's gaze.

Cool shock went running down his spine. Instantly America feared the other man had seen Russia's and his amiable interaction and think something of it. He kept a friendly smile plastered to his face as the sharp pricks of nervousness ran down his arms. Lithuania didn't return the smile and simply looked towards the front. The lights turned on, painfully bright as the florescent above clicked and flickered before falling into a low hum.

France was done with the presentation and there was a cordial round of applause. America joined in, but his thoughts were twisting tightly and he turned to his notebook, pretending to be engrossed in writing. _It's not like people can tell you're fucking by just one look, _America chided himself. The chiding didn't remove the sudden swell of paranoia ripping through him and America stopped writing mid stroke. _Lithuania's a lot smarter than everyone thinks, though. He probably can tell._ With that thought his stomach swayed.

America was out of his chair and halfway out of the room before his brain could even catch up with the fact that he was moving. He knew he was being ridiculous. At least it was between presentations. That usually took a good fifteen minutes. And it wasn't like he was locked in the room anyway, America reasoned silently with himself as he pushed the conference room door open and walked into the hall. He was just going to the bathroom. No one could say anything against that.

The smell of pine and juniper took the edge off from his panic and America stooped in his posture, unclenching his jaw. He stopped in the lobby, looking at the cotton littered around as the hotel decorated for Christmas. With a sigh, America walked to the men's room and pushed the wooden door with a quiet squeak. National secrets being leaked and found out didn't disturb him like this. He could have a gun pressed against his head and he could still smile. The second he thought he and Russia might be found out? America walked to the sink, pulling of his glasses and rubbing a hand down his face. What did that say about his priorities?

What should that say about his priorities?

The water was cool and he dampened a wad of paper towels, wringing it and pressing it against his face and the back of his neck. Blue eyes flickered to the mirror and America sighed. _Stop freaking the fuck out over everything. _He furrowed his hands quickly though his hair, tussling it and making tufts stand up in awkward angles. He hissed another sigh before raking his hair back into something more neat.

The bathroom door creaked. Russia came in, looking about the bathroom for a minute before deeming that there was no one in there and walked over to America's side. His jacket smelled like detergent and cigarette smoke as America pressed his face into Russia's shoulder.

"Sorry. I just panicked for a minute. I thought Lithuania saw us or something."

"Lithuania?"

America nodded, rubbing his head against Russia's suit jacket. He felt dumb now. Before he felt too hot and flustered from panic. The other man's presence was like being plunged into cold water. He could think clearly and the sharp edge of panic was gone.

"I'm just panicking over nothing. He just was looking at me and I just assumed."

"He might have been looking at the time. The clock is on your side of the room." America could hear his breathing and the soft thudding of his heart.

"I forgot about that," America mumbled and pulled away, furrowing his fingers though his hair again in nervous habit and adjusted his glasses.

The door creaked as it swung open and immediately America took another step away. Russia turned towards the sink, turning the water on and washing his hands.

England walked in, pausing at seeing America and Russia alone in the bathroom. "Are you alright? You sort of walked of the meeting before the break for lunch was even called."

"Yep. Just had to take a leak wicked bad." America walked towards him and smiled.

England rolled his eyes slightly. "Alright then. Germany, Spain, France, and I are heading out to lunch. Did you wish to join?"

America hesitated and listed to the water turn off. "Yeah, sure. Sounds good. Canada joining too?"

"Oh. Yes. I forgot about him." England turned back to the door and pulled it open as he walked out. America turned back to look at Russia and mouthed a small 'sorry' before walking out to the hotel lobby. He and Russia would just have to get lunch some other time.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey all! Hope your summer has been wicked great! Sorry I haven't updated, but I got a full time job for the summer and that means long hours as a newbie intern. Not to mention I still have to socialize with family and friends. Anyway, I hope you have all been doing super well, that you're all in good health, and hopefully have come into some more wealth :) Anywho, here is the next chapter

_Chris

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**Treason and Love's Reason**

_-Five-_

Lunch was bland. America fell back onto his bed, collapsing onto the mattress while huffing as he bounced. The coils squeaked as he flopped onto his side, belt digging into his stomach as he stared at the crack of light seeping out from the drawn curtains. His stomach gurgled in the silence of the room. America pulled his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his thoughts swirled in his mind, swooping into his stomach and making his feel sick. The panic before lunch was still strumming through his veins and he felt tense and paranoid. He really did feel stupid for getting worked up over just one look, but he just couldn't shake it. He had a feeling deep in his gut and it made him feel sick. No matter how much he babbled in his mind he kept circling back to the fear that maybe Lithuania knew.

America rolled over again with a grumpy grunt and blinked at the white fabric sitting on one of the pillows. He hadn't noticed it at first, since it had blended in with the white pillow it was perched on. Fingers grasped cotton and he rolled onto his back to unfold the fabric. It was Russia's undershirt, America realized, and the bottom of the shirt hit his chin from the odd angle. Russia must have forgotten it from before. It smelled musty from sweat and lying on the hotel floor and America held it higher, rubbing his thumb over the fabric. He smiled and pulled the shirt down to his chest, childishly hugging it and taking a slow breath.

America just breathed, shutting his eyes and listened to the sounds of the room. The heater rattled. A child yelled excitedly down the hall. The hands of the clock ticked by slowly. He just wanted it to be Christmas break already. Stuffing his face with Christmas cookies and having a warm body to hold onto during the long winter nights sounded great. Fucking awesome, actually. As America daydreamed about spending uninterrupted time with Russia, a loud knock sounded from the door. Opening his blue eyes, America grabbed his glasses and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Meeting's in thirty," Canada said, his voice muffled by the thick wood.

"Yeah, yeah." America stretched, looking down to his now wrinkled dress shirt with a shrug. "I heard you!" he called as Canada knocked again.

America rolled over to his stomach and closed his eyes for a few minutes. He hummed at the silence of the room and pushed off the bed. America was straightening his disheveled suit when he heard a knock again.

"I said I was coming, damn it," he yelled, walking to the door and throwing it open. Russia had a sort of Amused look on his face as he looked at him from across the hall, leaning against the far wall.

America's breath caught in his throat and he looked quickly down the hotel hallway. No one was around, but this was still dangerous. "Russia," He said softly, careful that his voice wouldn't carry, "wha-"

Russia shook his head and walked into America's room, waiting until the door was fully closed with a quiet click and pulled America close by the hips and delved into a deep kiss. His mouth tasted like bitter smoke and America nipped at his lower lip before pulling away. He smiled, stuck between being morose and cheerful before leaning back in for another slower kiss.

"I have been thinking about you visiting in January." Russia muttered against his throat.

America hummed, digging his fingers into the other man's shoulder blades through the thick fabric of the suit jacket and pressed him closer.

"I wanted to see you before the meeting; without you looking like you wanted to rip me apart and murder me. You are very convincing with that look." America said nothing, his lips brushing against Russia's ear and he moved his hands in slow circles down the taller man's back. Russia glanced about before pushing off the wall and kissing America's cheek. "I've been thinking about your visit in January."

"Yeah?"

Russia hummed and pulled away, placing his hands into his pockets and looking like a boy who knew he couldn't eat the candy in front of him until later. The smile on his face made America's heart warm and pressing against his ribs, threatening to pull them apart.

"This is too dangerous." Russia looked away into the darkened room, running his hands through his pale hair. America's amused features slowly collapsed into an annoyed frown and he moved away to lean against the door. "Ivan." America rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "You have to go."

Russia turned back to him, violet eyes darker from the cool blue of the shadowy room and nodded once. He breathed a great sigh as America slid over, allowing him to open the door and lumber away. He continued to slide even after the door closed, his clothes making a sibilant slithering sound against the wall until he landed on the carpeted floor with a dull thud.

He stared at the floor, pushing the fibers of the carpet back and watching the dirt pop up. He rolled his neck and pushed off the ground with a small growl and plodded back towards the bed. America snatched the half depleted pack of cigarettes.

The meeting wasn't for another 8 minutes anyway. He could use a smoke.

* * *

The cigarette did nothing to help with America's jitters. He walked into the lobby with fingers curled into his semi wrinkled suit jacket and chewed on the inside of his cheek. The receptionist in the front of the hotel smiled as he walked by. America returned the gesture with his own half plucked grin. Ensnared in his own thoughts, he walked into the sitting area that had served the mediocre breakfast that morning and turned to one of the metal carafes that held blissfully hot coffee. Adding cream to the white ceramic mug, he grabbed the tab and briefly gazed at the room as the coffee began to pour. Russia and England were standing toe to toe, and there was a dark look on Russia's face that screamed that he was not acting the part of being mad. He was livid. England looked furious and France, who was standing off to the side, had an equally dark look on his face.

Well shit. What the hell had happened in 8 minutes?

"Fuck!" America yelled, drawing all focus on him. The mug shattered to the floor as America flung his hand away from the carafe, red from the hot coffee that had spilled all over his skin. Swearing, America clenched his hand in attempt to soothe the burn, but the salt of his skin only antagonized the wound further.

Canada appeared out of the corner of his eyes, pulling a fabric handkerchief from his pants pocket and snatched a nearly empty glass of water from a nearby table. He dabbed the cloth into the water and brought the glass over to America. Taking the cold cloth, America wrapped his hand in the dripping handkerchief and hissed.

"Thanks," he muttered through clenched teeth. Canada nodded and toed a large chunk of ceramic away from them.

"Sure. What the hell did you do?"

America shrugged, looking down at his still red hand and rearranging the fabric around his hand. "I saw England and Russia and sort of forgot I was pouring the coffee."

"Yeah, well your shriek of pain probably snapped them out of whatever the hell they were arguing about."

"I didn't shriek." Fuck, that had hurt.

Canada gave him a long-suffering look and amended, "Yeah, fine. Manly cry. You still sounded like a girl."

"Shut up, that fuckin' hurt." America waved his hand again through the air, trying to cool down the red skin faster. He bent down to pick up the shards of ceramic before Canada swatted his good hand away.

"You're going to cut your fingers open. I'll go grab someone." He stood up and walked off to the main lobby. America watched him turn the corner before looking down at his throbbing hand again. The pain at least was receding. He turned around and Lithuania was walking towards him. America swallowed the burst of nervous fear that leapt into his chest, forcing a smile as the slight man came to a stop in front of him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, brows furrowing.

"Oh, totally fine. Just forgot what I was doing I guess." The laugh that come out sounded forced to his ears and he rubbed the back of his head.

"Could I have a word? In private?"

"The meeting's gonna start real soon," America said, looking over to where Russia and England were still glowering at each other. It looked like England was saying something but he couldn't hear anything.

"I think the meeting will be a tad late, don't you?" Lithuania said dryly before giving America a reassuring smile.

It felt like the words were showing his shoulders down into the ground. "Yeah. I guess. Where to?"

"The elevators? I think you need to change your shirt anyway."

America glanced down and gave a small tisk of disapproval. Sure enough there were brown splotches of coffee cascading down his shirt. He sighed and said, "Sounds good." He followed Lithuania's lead, walking back towards the lobby and away from the tense match between Russia and England. His stomach looped and dove in anxiousness, knotting up when he came to a stop at the elevators and pressed the elevator call. "So, uh. What did you want to talk about?"

Lithuania frowned at the doors, looking up as the bell sounded and the metal doors opened with a clatter. He took a step inside, waiting until America joined him and pressed the floor number. The doors began to close and he gave America a grim look.

"It is about Russia."


	6. Chapter 6

**Treason and Love's Reason**

_-Six-_

"So. What about Russia?" America asked, leaning against the wall of the dark wood paneled elevator. Lithuania looked up at the changing numbers as they ascended to America's level.

"I wanted to warn you," Lithuania said simply, turning to America.

Heart quickening and mouth going dry, America simply gave a chuckle. "About what? How much of an asshole he is?" He gave a lopsided smile and looked down to his hand. The redness was fading, but now his hands were growing clammy in nervousness. His heart and stomach fluttered nervously. Were they ousted? Did Lithuania know about them? America's hand throbbed and he tightened the pressure around his wrist.

"I think," Lithuania paused, closing his mouth and looking thoughtful. His green eyes looked down, a sharp look in his gaze before he turned back to America. "I think he has his mind on you."

"What?" It came out a little too high of a squeak. America cleared his throat as his face grew warm. "Haha, I mean, what? What does that mean?"

The elevator came to a slow stop and the doors opened. They walked out, America jumping out a little fast at the opportunity to not be stuck in the small space and sighed, berating himself at the same time.

_Just fucking relax. _

"He's been watching you at meetings, as well as staying near your room in the hotels." Lithuania said.

They came to a stop in front of America's door and waited as America fished for his key. He finally opened the door, swinging it wide open. Lithuania followed him inside. America loosened his tie. Housekeeping had finally come by and the curtains were wide open, spilling in the cold grey winter light. The bed was made, sheets changed and just like that Ivan's presence had been erased. America could feel the heavy sadness latch onto his chest, making him feel oddly empty. The door clacked closed and he brought all his attention to the other man. Depressed thoughts would have to wait until later.

"Define watching." America pulled off the stained tie, throwing it onto the white bedding and motioning to one of the empty chairs with his good hand. Lithuania took the proffered seat, drawing his hand to his lips as if in a deep contemplative thought and murmured, "He watches you at meetings when you aren't looking, when you're distracted. And it's unguarded. Raw. " Lithuania looked to the floor and America stared at him, swallowing and barely containing a flinch when the other man's green eyes met his own, feeling as though he had just been caught committing a crime.

America turned, walking to the florescent-lit bathroom and flipped the switch on. The light clicked a few times before glowing with an electrical buzz. He turned on the tap, taking a washcloth and holding it under the cold water as Lithuania continued on.

"I like to think of us as friends, and I don't want anything to happen to you. You know how he is, what he can be. The unkindness that runs through him."

"All of us are unkind."

"Yes, but this is different. It's colder. More inhuman."

"Inhuman?"

"You know what I mean, America" Lithuania said.

His voice drifted through the room and America wrung out the rag, holding the cold cloth over the red and tender skin of his hand. It felt better and it was fading quickly, but it was better to seem as if he was licking his wounds rather than owning up to the fact that he was hiding his face, fearing any movement would blurt out 'I LOVE RUSSIA' to Lithuania.

"Hey thanks man, that's great and all, but I-ya'know, I can take care of myself." The water turned off and he looked at his pallid complexion, pressing the cold compress to his skin. Making a face and sticking out his tongue, he turned and walked back towards the bed and flicked the lights off with his elbow.

"I know. I just don't want to see anything happen to you. There are many things not right with him, and he can be very dark." He paused and shook his head. "Darker than most." America paused in unbuttoning his shirt, distracted by Lithuania's words. He shook his head again and looked up with his bright green eyes. "All I wanted to do is to warn you. How is your hand, by the way?"

"Oh. It's all right. It'll be totally fine in like half an hour or something." America flexed his hand, proving the redness was only superficial.

"I'm glad." With that Lithuania stood up, and walked towards the room door. "I'll see you downstairs then. I'll let you change."

"Lithuania?"

"Yes?" He stopped at the door, fingers curled around the knob.

"Thanks for looking out for me."

Lithuania just smiled.

When the door closed America stopped unbuttoning his shirt, looking out the open window.

Well shit.

"Can't this day just go fucking well or something!" he snapped at the ceiling, grumbling and ripping the shirt off over his head. He had the overwhelming urge to just curl up under the sheets and stay there until all of this was over. He hated how he had to hide one of the only things that made him smile in the day, how he had to hide that fact that every time he saw Ivan's face his chest bubbled up like champagne until the cork in his heart exploded and all of the joy overflowed and he was drunk in happiness. Instead he had to use it and twist it, break it until it was blackened with hatred and disgust.

At least this was a short meeting for the day.

America took the wet washcloth and ran it over his face, sighing into the damp white terrycloth and moving it to the back of his neck in hopes of a quick alleviation of the sour mood he was in. He had to get back to the meeting. No doubt he was going to get flack for it or something.

America grabbed the fresh shirt from his suitcase and pulled it on, quickly buttoning it and making himself look somewhat presentable. He walked up to the door and opened it while enjoying the silence of the hall. America stuck his hands in his pockets, turning the opposite way to walk to the stairs. He didn't feel like chancing meeting anyone in the elevators. Besides, the stairs were closer to the meeting and no one ever came from that way. He'd have a few seconds longer to savor his own silence in his personal bubble where the world didn't matter and he was just Alfred.

The stairwell opened with a creak, and a strong smell of both Pine Sol and bile assaulted his nose. His fingers squeaked against the railing, as he traveled down, shoes slapping against the concrete stairs. Russia was the flame in his heart, the warmth that kept him going when he found himself alone in the dark. When he was alone though, he could feel the flame extinguish and he was left with cooling embers. More than once America found himself on his porch back home in Alexandria, sleep evading him and feeling those embers growing cold. It was an awful feeling to have the vast world beneath your feet, the endless vast existence of space above you and the coldness slowly leaking back into your veins.

America fixed the glasses gliding off his nose, pausing to pull the lobby floor door open with a grand swing. The air was immediately warmer and he could hear the distant murmur of voices. Probably just the guests heading out for holiday cheer. The town over was supposed to be having some sort of Christmas ceremony with cider and caroling. Maybe he pop over before it got too cold. Aw crap. He forgot a pen. Maybe England would let him borrow one? America patted his suit jacket just to make sure there wasn't a pen stowed away. Well the hotel guests sounded pretty rowdy, but hey, it was almost the holidays anyway so maybe they'd had a few drinks.

America stopped walking. He looked to the end of the hall, watching the dim shadows lining the walls and paid attention to the sound. He was wrong. It wasn't the voices of merry people. It was the sound of people arguing. What the hell was happening? The murmurs grew louder as he walked the stretch of the hall way and empty conference rooms. He reached their meeting room, pulling the door open and listening to the cacophony crash over him.

"I don't know what you think you're doing," said England and America closed the door behind him securely, walking towards where the cluster of tables and coffee sat. Currently there was a small crowd, blocking America's view. "But you have better get it through your psychotic mind that you'd best leave it alone."

Poland was sitting at one of the tables on the outskirt of the crowd, looking up when he noticed America storming towards the crowd, elbowing Latvia who looked nervous.

"I do not know what you keep trying to say, England."

Fuck. That was Russia. America finally got to the cusp of the crowd, touching shoulders and muttering terse apologies as he swiftly cut through the crowd until he found himself standing in front of England and Russia.

"Oh fuck off, yes you do." England looked even more livid than earlier, but what drew America's eye was that even France and his brother looked similarly annoyed. What the hell had happened?

"I do not appreciate your tone, England." Russia responded from the chair he sat in. Though it looked as though England was towering over him, Russia's languid pose and bored features managed to look powerful. Behind him stood his two sisters, and off in the corner stood Lithuania looking grim.

"Then why the hell are you lurking around his door always? Sneaking in the morning before anyone sane is up? Watching his every move. I saw you corner him in the hall the other day!"

Jagged shards of ice sprang through America's veins and he stopped moving. England had seen what? Oh god, he'd seen them kiss. Or had he? America looked at his brother again, unable to look at Russia and saw Canada gazing back. His eyes were angry, and at the same time full of the same worried concern that was normally reserved for when he was bleeding.

"Arthur–" America started, feeling his skin prickle in nervousness.

"Who is preying upon who then?" Russia growled, cutting America off. "You stalk after me and then lecture me for walking through a building?"

"Walking? You didn't just walk into America and shove him–"

America grabbed England's arm, placing his body between the two nation's line of sight. "England what are you doing? Are you trying to start a war?"

"I will not let him coerce you Alfred," England gritted in a low voice. "I'm only sorry I did not see it earlier."

"You didn't see anything," America tried. He hoped his desperateness didn't seep into his throat, how he swallowed to keep the cracked dam of fear from letting the waters sweep through him.

"America," France said, distracting him from England, "I've seen it too. You don't have to be silent."

"I–" His brain stopped working and America swallowed again. How many times had they fucked up? How many people had seen stolen kisses in the halls or the shadowed streets? He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to keep their illusion intact. England pulled America's hand away from his arm and America spun, only managing in time to stop England from punching Russia. Russia looked alarmed, the expression flickering over his features and he looked up at America. Like a match blown out though, his usual coldness settled back into his features and he looked on at England in disdain. "Are you trying to start a war?" America yelled, repeating himself as he pulled England away from Russia.

"He might as well," Belarus said. Her fingers were clenched white on the back of Russia's chair.

"You shut the hell up," America barked, glaring down to Russia he added, "Control her."

"Or what?" Russia snapped, the cold façade chipping away. "What could you possibly do?"

America could feel the dark waters swirling, threatening to drown him. How could he stop all of this? "I think you know what I'm capable of." America said softly.

"Oh yes, I do." Russia stood up, his face close. "Don't we all know of the cruelty?"

America stayed silent, unwilling to let the argument go further. He went to push Russia back, unthinking. It wasn't until Russia caught America's hand that he remembered it was the burned hand and felt his face pale. It must have shown, for he could see it reflected in Russia's eyes. He quickly let go and America stepped back, letting his hand dangle limp at his side.

"In the conference room. I have a feeling words will be said that should not be heard." His voice was gritted, even to his own ears and America turned, storming to the conference room. "All of you, in there," he growled angrily. To the group of nation standing near him he snapped, "I don't fucking care what any of you do, but you better not be here or in there."

With that he swiftly walked into the conference room, slamming his hand against the table as he sat down a little harder than he intended and willed himself to not gather his head in his hands and weep.


End file.
